Lust Thrust Thursdays: Why I Hate Fetlife Poetry

It’s going to sound like I want to kinkshame, but all I really wanna do is let out a kinkyawn. Porn, fetlife poetry, straight people fucking, even if in a bucolic or group setting are boring!

Like, okay, I’m not about to take a stance on this other than to say shock is cheap and I’m not excited in any meaningful way. Like not even a little bit turned on. Your sexy descriptions are kind of whatever to me. Your selfies, your dick picks, your carefully arched back. What could be more basic than fleshy desires written out. Thighs, thrusts, sorry I’m skipping over. But maybe it’s just not for me.

Wanna get me wet? Give me lines about home invading and hogtying the Koch brothers. Feed me a sonnet dumping hot wax on the federal reserve. Sing about masticating oligarchies and shitting on patriarchy. Firebomb the fascist state and write my name in the flames. Talk about ending the prison industrial complex. Talk about industrial society and its future. Talk about our self destruction and the glorification of its acceleration. Talk about getting rid of wants and then needs.

I wrote this poem in the shower, at the gym, while thinking about the photo of a young Ted Kaczynski I have on my phone. Thinking about how he would hate that probably.

What a beautiful story. Desiree has an otherworldly quality to her, a banished elf or displaced siren who developed a sharp tongue to protect her true nature in the human world. This, in combination with the very prosaic details of baby bricolage among the three of them, makes for a surreal story. It's quite wonderful. Great job.